


That Which Gives Us Life

by emynn



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Frottage, M/M, Missing Scene, Morning Cuddles, Morning Sex, Reflection, Reunions, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-08
Updated: 2015-01-08
Packaged: 2018-03-06 15:06:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3138728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emynn/pseuds/emynn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"But if Ethan was a metronome, Brian’s a heartbeat." Just after reuniting with Brian, Justin reflects on his time with Ethan and remembers why he and Brian always fit so perfectly together. Set between 3.08 and 3.09.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That Which Gives Us Life

Justin wakes with a start. It takes a moment for him to re-orient himself to his surroundings, but once he places himself, he smiles. He’s back at Brian’s loft. Back where he belongs.

He glances over at Brian, who’s snoring quietly. That damn deviated septum. He would never dare tell Brian, namely because Brian’s in complete denial that he snores and will bite the head off anybody who suggests it, but Justin’s always found it rather sweet. He may be Brian Kinney, Sex God of Liberty Avenue by day -- well, and by night -- but in these quiet hours of the morning, before the rest of the world awakes, he’s just Brian, the handsome mortal who snores in his sleep.

And that’s another thing Justin would never dare tell Brian: that he looks beautiful like this. Peaceful. Calm. Soft. 

Justin chuckles under his breath. He doubts there is another person in the world who’d associate that last word with Brian. The thought fills him with pride -- he has this secret that nobody else knows, that nobody else would _dream_ to be true. 

Brian lets out an unusually loud snore and Justin kisses his forehead. He still can’t believe he’s actually here. He’d just been beginning to think it was a lost cause, that his internship at Vangard had been a laughable attempt to get Brian back. But after Brian had only seemed pleasantly dazed after that kiss -- a kiss he ended up participating in just as much as Justin -- Justin had known he had to give it one last shot. So he’d emailed “Mr. Kinney” and asked to meet with him at his earliest convenience so they could address his future one last time … and, well, that had gone pretty well. They’d fucked in Brian’s office, then in his new Corvette, and then several times back at the loft. Justin’s pretty sure his ass will be sore all day and he can’t wait. He’s missed feeling Brian inside of him hours after they’d fucked.

Justin rests his head on Brian’s chest. He can’t help but feel they’d be stronger this time around. They’d both fucked up before, but they’d chosen to come back together. Despite all the hurt, anger, and resentment of the past, they never really stopped loving each other -- well, not that Brian would ever say it out loud, but Justin knows it’s true. That has to count for something, right? 

He snorts. Of course it does. Ethan may have been a man of words, but Brian’s a man of action, and Justin’s learned that counts for a hell of a lot more. Brian may never say the words, but Justin could see it all over his face last night, could feel it in his every touch and kiss and caress. Reunited with Brian, Justin finally feels like himself again. More than that, even. He somehow feels like a more _alive_ version of himself. 

It’s what had been missing all along with Ethan, Justin realizes now. Ethan … Ethan had been a metronome. An external force dictated their rhythm, clocking in at a stately 76 beats per minute. Steady. Regular. Predictable. A melody written by somebody who cared about them only as two starving artists embracing in a romantic black and white film with English subtitles, not as Justin and Ethan, two students at PIFA trying to make a go of it in a shitty apartment.

**Tick.** _I love you._

**Tick.** _Fucking under the stars._

**Tick.** _Feeding each other chocolate truffles._

**Tick.** _Rings and promises and forevers._

It had been comforting at first. Justin had felt safe, curled up with Ethan as the metronome beat on, driving them forward. 

But then Ethan’s recording contract arrived, then Ethan wanted them to hide, then Ethan fucking cheated. And all it took was those few discordant notes to throw them entirely off their rhythm. But as they faltered, the beat of the metronome continued, its fixed rhythm now incessant and stifling. And Ethan had even said that was the greatest weakness of the metronome -- it’s a tool for concertos, but a hindrance during cadenzas. 

If Justin had to describe his life with only musical terminology, as he’d learned to do during his time with Ethan, he would have said that it was filled with accelerandos and ritardandos, an adagio and an allegretto, a minuet and a march, all at once. Different rhythms, different tempos, different time signatures, apt to change without notice or warning. Looking back, Justin can see just how fruitless it was to try to live his life according to the declarations of a timepiece.

But if Ethan was a metronome, Brian’s a heartbeat. Brian’s booming and fast, those desperate fucks when Justin feels raw and open, as though his very soul is being ripped from him in the best of ways. He’s wild and passionate and unrestrained, and yet it’s never too much, because Justin knows that as soon as he’s in danger of teetering over the precipice, Brian will bring him back to steadier ground.

Steadier ground, like how Brian is now, how Brian was their last time before they’d finally surrendered to sleep last night. Soft and gentle, a quiet but firm reminder that what they have is real, that real emotions are involved, real powerful emotions. If there’s anything Justin’s learned from his time with Brian, it’s that tender doesn’t mean weak. It’s the bravest act in the world, to open yourself up to somebody else so completely, to trust them to see to your needs, to turn to them for comfort or for healing or simply to be held.

But perhaps what Justin loves the most is somewhere in between the two, that incomparable transition. There’s anticipation there, the unknown of what will come next. And while its tempo might change, the heartbeat is always there, beating at just the right pace for them. It adjusts course depending on their needs. And it’s uniquely for _them_ , for Brian and Justin, a profoundly personal percussion pounding beneath their skin. Their heartbeat, their pulse, their sign of life. 

Justin tightens his hold on Brian, presses his lips against that freckle just above his right nipple. A hand comes up to grasp his hair just ever so slightly too hard, and Justin smiles.

“Justin?” Brian’s sleep-filled voice is dazed, and Justin’s pretty sure he’s having the same reaction he himself did earlier, waking up and not being fully able to comprehend who he’s sharing a bed with.

“Hey,” Justin says. 

Brian grunts and pulls him up so he can kiss him on the mouth. His breath is slightly stale, and his stubble is scratchy against Justin’s face, but it’s all so _Brian_ that Justin can only moan and deepen the kiss.

“You’re up early,” Brian murmurs, his fingers still toying with the strands of Justin’s hair.

Justin grins. “So are you,” he says, and reaches for Brian’s dick which is, predictably, hardening.

“Mmm,” Brian agrees, and strokes his fingers down Justin’s back, shooting tendrils of warmth through his skin.

Justin burrows his head in the crook of Brian’s shoulder, feeling rather like a cat as he stretches out in Brian’s arms. He’d nearly forgotten how it could feel in the mornings, just the two of them together, lying languidly entwined before the sun comes up. Beneath him, Brian shifts his hips a fraction, rubbing his erection against Justin’s own. There’s no urgency to the movement, and if it had been anybody else, Justin might have wondered if it had been accidental.

But there’s no questioning it with Brian.

They frot together leisurely, and images begin to swirl inside of Justin’s mind. Memories of their first time together, when Brian had promised Justin he’d always remember him, of Brian surprising him at his prom, of Brian holding his hand down the street, of Brian quietly saying that he wanted him safe, wanted him around for a long time … they all intermingle with with new scenes that Justin supposes are hopes or dreams, but seem far too vivid for that. He can see Brian squeezing him as he kisses his cheek while they walk down Liberty Avenue, can see Brian swallow a shrimp that Justin holds between chopsticks as they eat carryout on the floor of the loft. 

He can see himself, older, being held by Brian more tightly than he ever could have imagined, as though Brian doesn’t ever want to let him go.

Justin’s breath catches in his throat.

“You all right?” Brian asks.

Justin nods. “Yeah. I just … I missed you.”

Brian doesn’t say anything, but his face softens into that doe-eyed expression that has always been Justin’s undoing, and he pulls him down for a long, tender kiss that makes Justin’s toes curl.

For a moment Justin thinks he can stay like this all fucking day, just the two of them growing reacquainted with each other’s bodies, but then Brian manages to thrust up against him just _there_. He groans as he digs his fingers into Brian’s shoulders. Brian smirks and reaches over to the bedside table to pump some lubricant into his hand.

“Ready for more, Sunshine?” he asks.

Justin nods, and Brian’s fingers are inside of him, carefully stretching him. Of course, Brian manages to find his prostate almost immediately, and it takes all Justin’s control not to shout. The sounds both of them make grow less dignified, more desperate. Before they may have been moving as if in a dream, but now they’re waking up, and the energy between them pulsates and sparks.

“I want to ride you,” Justin says.

Brian raises his eyebrows and smacks his ass. “Go to it, then.”

A condom is quickly found, and soon Justin is sinking down onto Brian’s cock. It takes a moment for Justin to adjust to the burn, and he draws a few breaths as he reaches down and places a hand on Brian’s chest to brace himself. When he feels Brian’s hands grip his ass, he begins to move, shifting up and down on his dick. He can tell Brian’s trying to remain passive, to give Justin full control and allow him to set their rhythm. Justin appreciates the sentiment, but it’s not what he’s looking for right now. He draws his thumb across Brian’s cheekbone, makes sure he’s paying attention, and then deliberately clenches his ass.

“Fuck!”

“That’s the general idea,” Justin says. “Mind putting your back into it, old man?”

Justin laughs as Brian mutters a curse and smacks his ass. Then Brian’s leaning up, capturing his mouth in a bruising kiss, thrusting up deep inside him. Justin rides him for all he’s worth and Brian bucks his hips, their movements growing less controlled and more frantic. Their skin is slick with sweat and they’re not even making out proper words, just grunts and groans and growls. Justin feels so fucking powerful in that moment, as he and Brian move closer and closer to orgasm, rocking against each other and crying out, as if somehow the forcefulness of their fucking will cause a burst of energy so explosive it’ll form a rift in the universe and the entire earth will fall through it.

Brian reaches for Justin’s dick, tugging on it roughly as he fucks Justin’s mouth with his tongue.

“Stop,” Justin says, pulling away. “I’m close.”

“Good,” Brian says, twisting his hand, making Justin gasp. “That’s kind of the point. Or do they not teach you that at your fancy art school?”

“Brian …” Justin whines.

Brian responds by rolling his hips all while brushing his thumb over the head of Justin’s cock. Justin’s rhythm falters, and he grips Brian’s shoulders. His breath is coming so fast now, he’s nearly hyperventilating, but he wants _more_ , and Brian’s the only one who can carry him through this moment.

“Brian … please.”

Brian bites Justin’s shoulder, and that’s all it takes for Justin to shoot, screaming out Brian’s name as his come splatters between their chests. He’s vaguely aware of Brian’s thrusts growing even faster, and he summons the last remnants of his energy to again clench his cheeks to help him along. Brian grabs the back of his head to pull him in for a fierce kiss and makes that sound, that half-moan, half-whimper that is uniquely _him_ , and Justin feels him come.

“Fuck,” Justin breathes, gingerly climbing off of Brian and settling in beside him.

“Yeah,” Brian says. He wraps one arm around Justin while using the other to reach for his cigarettes. “Nothing like a good fuck in the morning to wake you up.”

Justin laughs. “That energized you? I’m ready to pass out.”

“With age comes endurance, young grasshopper,” Brian says, idly ruffling Justin’s hair. “We’ll just have to work on yours.”

“Asshole,” Justin mutters, smiling. He brushes his thumb through the come drying on Brian’s chest, then licks it off. Brian’s eyes smolder, and Justin knows he wouldn’t be opposed to another round as soon as he extinguishes his cigarette, if not before then. Unfortunately, Justin’s eyes are already closing, and he’s feeling rather boneless. He doesn’t think he could move an inch even if the entire building was on fire.

Fortunately, he’s pretty sure if that was the case, Brian would carry him through the flames. Just like he always did. Just as Justin suspects he always will, no matter what happens to them in the future.

“That’s me,” Brian says, letting out a long stream of smoke. He pulls Justin closer to him. “Get some sleep. You’ll need your energy if we’re going to get through a dozen more fucks before heading out to Babylon tonight.”

Justin chuckles. “A dozen?”

“I always tell our interns to aim high,” Brian says. “Think you’re up for the challenge?”

“Oh, yeah,” Justin says, and wriggles so his head can rest of Brian’s chest. “Always.”

He feels Brian’s fingers gently card his hair and he closes his eyes, allowing the sound of Brian’s heart beating -- steady, reassuring, modulating to their own unique rhythm -- to lull him back to sleep.


End file.
